‘Move,’ I demand, dragging my limp head up and gazing to the ceiling. ‘Move!’

A sharp inhale resonates from behind me, his fingers flexing on my hips. ‘Becoming quite the demanding lover, aren’t you?’ He remains still, and I attempt to thrust back, but find no benefit, only his hold locking me in place. ‘Savoured, Olivia. We do this my way.’

‘Fuck,’ I whisper hoarsely, searching deep for some calm and control. I’m being held in no-man’s-land, helpless and unable to generate the friction my body needs. ‘You always say you never make me do anything you know I don’t want to.’

‘Huh?’

If I wasn’t so focused on my current desperation, I’d laugh at his genuine confusion.

‘You don’t want to be worshipped?’ he asks.

‘No, I don’t want to be held in limbo!’ There’s no calm to be found anywhere. I’ve given up trying to locate any. ‘Miller, please, just make me feel good.’

‘Oh shit, Olivia!’ He rears back painfully slowly and hovers there, now only a fraction within me. He’s still, but his ragged panting matches mine, and I know he’s struggling to maintain his control. ‘Beg me.’

My teeth grit and I fly back, shouting my satisfaction when he hits me deep and hard.

‘Fuck, Olivia!’ He removes himself, leaving me whimpering quiet pleas. ‘I can’t hear you.’

I feel defeated, my scrambled mind frantically searching for the simple words I need to meet his demand.

‘Beg!’ His shout shocks me, and I feebly attempt to shoot back again. But I’m trapped, helpless in his hold as his tall, powerful frame remains poised behind me, waiting for me to fulfil his harsh request. ‘I’ve asked twice,’ he puffs, his breathing laboured. ‘Listen to me, Olivia.’

‘Please.’

‘Louder!’

‘Please!’ I shout, and follow it up with a scream when his hips fire forward, harder than I was expecting. I focus my attention on tightly moulding every internal muscle around him, making the friction when he withdraws out of this world. My arms straighten to steady me, just as he plunges deep again, and my chin drops to my chest lifelessly.

‘I’m watching my cock lose itself inside of you, sweet girl.’

Everything aligns, sending me to that faraway place of utter bliss. We establish a steady tempo after a few more drives; our bodies are again in tune and gliding effortlessly together. He’s persistently groaning and mumbling incoherent, pleasure-filled words while sustaining his meticulous pace. I’m in awe of his control, yet mindful it’s something he struggles with. I lift my head and look over my shoulder, finding every mesmerising trait that I love: parted, moist lips; a tight, shadowed jaw; and when he rips his rapt attention away from his arousal slipping in and out of me, the package is complete and I’m staring into gleaming, sharp blues eyes.

‘Do you always struggle?’ I ask my question on a wisp of air as he thrusts smoothly forward.

He shakes his head lazily, knowing what I’m referring to, and grinds deeply into me. ‘Not with you.’

The strength I need to keep my head turned to look at him vanishes and I return forward, letting a knee rest on the step when my legs begin to wobble. His plunges are constant. And the pleasure is endless. My arms bend and my forehead meets the step. Then I feel the warmth of his chest blanket my back, forcing my body flush to the stairs. We remain locked together until Miller is lying the length of me and he continues wreaking havoc on my senses, his lips now in perfect position to dance lightly across the top of my back.

‘Shall we?’ he asks, just as my arm flies out and my hand wraps around one of the balustrades on the stairs.

‘Yes.’

His rhythm increases yet remains controlled, and I squeeze my eyes shut as a switch flicks and my orgasm is suddenly charging forward. There’s no holding it back, especially when Miller’s teeth clamp down on my shoulder and he jolts forward unexpectedly.

‘Miller!’ My body temperature is increasing by the second, my skin starting to burn.

‘That’s it, Livy.’ Forward he snaps again, flinging me into his realm of indescribable pleasure. ‘Scream my name, gorgeous girl.’

‘Miller!’

‘Fuck, that sounds good.’ He hits me with another hard but controlled advance of his hips. ‘Again!’

Everything around me blurs – vision, hearing. ‘Miller!’ I reach the pinnacle and burst in a hazy fog of stars, my focus set solely on riding out the delicious waves of pleasure ruling me. ‘Oh God!’ I pant. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God!’

‘I concur,’ he gasps, lazily grinding into me. ‘I fucking concur.’

I’m reduced to a useless mass of twitching body parts, trapped beneath him, relishing in the continuous throbbing of his cock held deep inside of me as he finds his own climax. My knuckles are numb and white from my grip of the balustrade, I’m heaving and wheezing, and I’m drenched. I’m perfect.

‘Olivia Taylor, I think I’m addicted to you.’ His teeth graze my shoulder, dropping delicate kisses between light bites, and he grabs and tugs my hair, forcing my head up. ‘Let me taste you.’ I let him take everything from me as we remain stretched out on the stairs, the roughness of the carpet on my damp skin only mildly registering in my blissed-out mind. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and applies a little pressure with his teeth before pecking his way to my cheek.

My worn-out muscles protest, trying defiantly to cling to him when he carefully slides out of me. I’m helped to turn around and positioned on a step, Miller kneeling in front of me. The concentration on his flawless face holds my attention while he spends a few silent moments arranging my hair over my shoulders. He doesn’t pass up the opportunity to twiddle a few strands. His eyes catch mine. ‘Are you real, sweet girl?’

I reach forward on a smile and pinch his nipple, but he doesn’t wince or yelp. He returns my smile and leans in to kiss my forehead affectionately. ‘Come on. Let’s go be vegetables.’ He pulls me to my feet and guides me back down the stairs by my nape.

‘Have you ever watched television?’ I ask as Miller makes himself comfortable on the sofa, ready to veg. I can’t imagine Miller watching television, just like I can’t imagine him doing most normal things. He reclines and gestures for me to join him, so I lie on his chest, face tucked neatly under his chin, my body falling between his thighs when he spreads them.

‘Would you like to watch television?’ he asks, taking my hand and bringing it to his mouth.

I ignore that he hasn’t answered my question and reach for the remote control with my spare hand. The screen jumps to life, and I immediately smile when I’m confronted with Del and Rodney Trotter. ‘You must have watched Only Fools and Horses.’ It’s a national treasure!

‘Can’t say I have.’

‘Really?’ I blurt, swinging my astonished face up to his. ‘Just watch it. You’ll never look back.’

‘As you wish,’ he agrees quietly, beginning to knead lovely firm circles into my nape. ‘Anything you wish.’

I’m only watching the television, not hearing any of the banter, as my mind wanders to a place where Miller’s words were true. Anything I wish. I compile a mental list of things I’d wish for, smiling when I feel the vibrations of a suppressed laugh beneath me. My part-time, refined gentleman is amused by the antics playing out on the screen before us, and the normalcy of that fills me with contentment, no matter how trivial it is.